Romeo (Payne Brothers Romance Book 6)

by Sosie Frost

  How else could this man get me into trouble?

  Wicked intentions shadowed his smile. “Maybe I’ve finally got you where I want you. I did want to know your wildest fantasy.”

  He kissed my hand. I wished it hadn’t delighted me.

  “Don’t you start,” I said. “This is bad, Quint.”

  “Oh, I can be very bad.”

  “Clearly.” I batted him away before he attempted another kiss. “But Samson arrested us both in front of the town. Everyone in Butterpond is going to assume we worked together to get the Butter Monger and Mistress title. Who knows what they’re saying about us!”

  “Right now…everyone is talking more about your grandma.”

  Dear God.

  My family had lived in Butterpond for five generations. Five minutes with the punch bowl and Grandma would have no choice but to pack her things and flee to Paris with me.

  I bit my nail. “…Do you think many people saw?”

  Quint laughed. “She nearly did the twist off the stage. I was waiting for her to start twerking.”

  “Great.”

  “It takes the heat off us.”

  Hardly. “What do we tell our families?”

  He shrugged. “That it was all my idea.”

  “Like they’re gonna believe that.”

  “Of course, they will. It’s me, Ladybug. No one will ever suspect we worked together.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “Because the girls I usually fuck are the type who belong in jail.”

  “Great…” I fought the urge to pace once more. Last thing I wanted was to touch any more of the cell than strictly necessary. “So now everyone will assume I’m both a troublemaker and a mega-slut.”

  Quint frowned. “Like I’d ever let anyone think badly of you…though if you wanted to pretend to be a mega-slut…you know, for me…”

  He dodged my smack.

  “The optics are really bad,” I said. “We might have to tell people the truth.”

  “Enough bullshit has already happened today. We’ve got the Confederacy rising against the Nazis while Spencer and your grandmother play beer pong. In the grand scheme of Butterpond catastrophe, no one will remember this.”

  “But what if they do?”

  He grinned. “There’s always the conjugal plan.”

  I’d throttle him. “Be serious.”

  “We will inspire everyone through the power of fucking.”

  “Quint.”

  “When two people put their minds and genitals together, nothing is impossible.”

  “Glad you’re so cavalier about it,” I said.

  “Lady, it’s just sex.”

  Yeah, right. Just sex.

  Just the most magical nights of my life.

  Had it meant anything real to him?

  I hated myself for even hoping. Hated myself more for falling victim to my own heart. I knew what sex meant to Quint before I’d ever hopped into bed with him.

  Only wished it hadn’t hurt so much to hear him admit it.

  “It’s gonna be fine,” he said. “Samson flexed his muscles to catch me on a bullshit charge. We’ll be out of here in an hour.”

  And then what?

  Where would we go?

  To bed? Where we’ll hide from the world, hands all over each other, swallowing words I was too afraid to say and more terrified to hear?

  What had started as a fun mistake spiraled into a total disaster.

  “This isn’t me,” I said. “None of this. I’m in jail. I’m having sex. I’m sneaking around and lying to my family.”

  Quint laughed. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “Aren’t you happy?”

  “Do you really think that random sex, mild criminal mischief, and a complete disregard for the future is supposed to make me happy?”

  He hesitated. “…Yes?”

  “Christ, Quint.” I held his gaze. “Has it ever made you happy?”

  He didn’t answer me.

  At least we both had parts of our hearts and souls we weren’t ready to admit.

  “What do you want from me?” he asked. “Come on, Lady. Spill it. We’re alone. Got more than enough time.”

  That wasn’t the point. “I can’t tell you what to do.”

  “You better start, because I don’t know what I can give you.”

  I snorted. “Usually a headache.”

  “That can’t be all.” He brushed his fingers alongside my arm. Goosebumps rose under his touch. The man had enough pride for both of us. My pleasure would make him insufferable. “I do a lot more for you.”

  Yeah, and that was a problem. Instead of thinking of solutions and plans, excuses and explanations, all I wanted was to bust out of jail so I could fall back into his arms.

  I knew it.

  And he knew it.

  It wasn’t fair.

  “I can’t be stuck in here with you,” I said.

  “I can think of a worse punishment…” His voice lowered. “We can try it later if you want.”

  “You never take anything seriously.”

  “Maybe you take everything too seriously.”

  Apparently, not the most important things in life.

  Not even protecting my own heart.

  I sighed. “You’ve gotta realize that we work badly together.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You and me?” I couldn’t bear to meet his gaze. “It never works. We can’t fix anyone. We don’t share any of the same values. Our plans just blow up in our faces.”

  He went quiet, but his fingers flicked through the bars, beckoning me closer. “Come here.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said so.”

  “And every time I listen to you, it turns out badly.”

  “What about last night?”

  “Doesn’t count.”

  “I told you I’ll take care of everything.”

  “You said that last night too.”

  “Then you know I’m a man of my word.”

  He reached for me, and I hated myself for giving in. But the jail was cold, sterile, and thoroughly intimidating, and Quint always acted like a frustrating beacon of fun and excitement, strength and confidence. I loved that about him. Always had.

  Too bad it wasn’t anything I could ever reveal to him.

  He kissed my hand and kept his voice low. “I don’t know what to give you, Lady. I’m not even sure you’d like what little I have to offer. But when we’re together…it’s good.”

  “Sex isn’t everything, Quint.”

  “Well, it’s the best part of nothing.”

  “I’d rather it be just one part of something.”

  I didn’t let him speak. It’d been my own foolishness that got me to this point. He wasn’t a man who’d ever wanted anything more. It was a miracle we’d even had multiple nights together. Asking for anything real was as silly as asking the jail door to swing open.

  I’d always thought that when I’d fall in love, I’d understand it implicitly. The feelings. The needs. The desires.

  But no one had warned that love and confusion could become interchangeable. That dizzying, heart-crushing excitement yielded to both desire and a stomach-clenching dread-infused bewilderment.

  Up was down, left was right, sex was love, and leaving my small town for the romance of Paris had never sounded so utterly dreadful.

  I’d always thought the worst place I could end up was Quint Payne’s bed. Instead, he’d landed me in jail. And, like a lovesick puppy, I followed him from one corner of the cell to the other, hoping to earn a flash of his playboy smile and another quick kiss to the back of my hand.

  The door separating the jail cells from the rest of the sheriff station swung open. Footsteps clopped along the tiled floors, and we pushed apart before anyone could see us together.

  Jail didn’t offer many hiding places. I nearly dove under the bench to escape from the inevitable
wrath of my sisters, my brothers, or…

  God forbid…Grandma.

  But it wasn’t my family who had arrived first.

  Tidus Payne sauntered through the jail just to deliver his brother a shit-eating grin.

  “Shit,” Quint gripped the bars of his cell and banged his head against the iron. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”

  Tidus was a beast of a man who realized that his tattoos, wild hair, and unhidden scars often intimidated many people. His leather jacket clung to hardened, world-beaten muscles. He was the sort of man who earned his keep by the skin of his teeth, blood on his knuckles, and out-sinning the devil. But he wasn’t unhandsome.

  Problem was, Tidus knew it, resented it, and did all he could to slander his own name. He’d never been the sort of man who tolerated any positive attention.

  Until he’d met Honey Hudson.

  Then Tidus had changed…and so had the landscape for prepared meals in Butterpond. In previous years, my family held a formidable monopoly on lunch specials at our market’s Hot Foods counter. That changed with the arrival of Honey and her barbeque truck. We’d expected the competition, but never thought we’d start losing money.

  Also never realized how quickly Honey and Tidus would fall for each other, and how their whirlwind courtship only sweetened her barbeque and her business.

  “Well, well, well…” Tidus circled Quint like a vulture surveying a fresh kill. “Care to explain yourself, young man?”

  Quint sighed. “Hardly recognize you on that side of the bars.”

  Tidus agreed. “What the hell are you doing in there? You’re not even drunk.”

  “Neither are you.”

  Tidus laughed. I’d never heard the man chuckle before. Sobriety suited him. It also made him intolerably arrogant.

  “Seeing you in jail is better than any drink,” Tidus said.

  “Glad you’re enjoying this.”

  “Don’t have any misery of my own anymore—gotta get my fix on yours. Find our signatures on the walls?”

  “Found more than one of yours.”

  “Don’t get any ideas. Last thing I want is my baby brother breaking my record.”

  Quint snorted. “Not enough time on earth to catch up.”

  Tidus cautioned him with a cold smirk. “Careful. Better start sweet-talking me, or you ain’t going home.”

  He groaned. “You’re kidding. I thought you were here to gloat. Don’t tell me they sent you. Where the hell is Jules?”

  “Warring with the Nazis.” Tidus frowned. “Maybe you can tell me why Butterpond is crawling with Nazis?”

  “Long story.”

  “Does it have anything to do with you in jail?”

  “I only bootlegged. I didn’t goose-step. What about Marius?”

  Tidus laughed. “The honorable mayor-to-be? If he was spotted in jail, it’d hurt his election chances.”

  “…Varius?”

  “The good preacher is ministering to the Third Reich.”

  Quint grumbled. “And Cassi?”

  “If bridezilla got ahold of you, you’d be begging to stay behind bars.”

  Quint eyed his brother. “So…they sent you?”

  “Believe it or not, I’m the only Payne with a pocket full of cash.”

  This impressed Quint. “Not wasting it on hookers and blow anymore?”

  “Nope. Just assholes and Barlows.” He pulled his phone from his pocket and gestured for Quint to pose next to me. “I promised Jules a picture of this. Samson wouldn’t give me a copy of your mug shot.”

  I covered my face. Quint dove for the phone.

  “Fuck off, Tidus,” he said. “Get me outta here.”

  “Not until you tell me why the hell you got arrested in the first place.” Tidus chided his brother with a wag of his finger. “Or should I leave you here to think about your actions? You are tearing this family apart, young man.”

  Quint rolled his eyes. “Are you done?”

  “Who would have thought that I’d turn out to be the good one?”

  “Far from it. Honey’s keeping you in line.”

  Tidus conceded the point. “She keeps me on a tight leash, but at least it’s kinky.”

  “You and I have always been kindred spirits.”

  “At least my girl is company worth keeping.” Tidus glanced in my direction. “You can do better.”

  I suffered the insult—being locked in jail, I couldn’t deny it. “Hello, Tidus.”

  Quint shrugged. “Don’t worry about Lady. She’s fine.”

  Tidus disagreed. “She’s a Barlow.”

  I hated the malice in his voice.

  “Never could get anything past a Payne,” I said.

  “Lady can hold her own.” Quint placated me with a smile. “She’s easier to get along with than her brothers.”

  Just my luck—Tidus was the perceptive one in the family.

  “Oh, I’m sure she comes with many benefits,” he said. “I guess she told you the news?”

  I didn’t like the sound of that. “What news?”

  Tidus addressed only his brother. “About the job. Figured, since you two were trapped in here together, she might’ve let it slip. I mean…what else could you two possibly talk about?”

  Quint frowned. “We were comparing asshole brothers.”

  “She’s got you beat. Duke Barlow approached Honey with a job offer.”

  Good thing the cell was locked. News like that would’ve bounced me off the walls.

  “He offered her a job?” I blinked. “In the market?”

  “A job in every market,” Tidus said. “He wants her to become Barlow Markets’ Executive Chef, overseeing prepared foods in all franchises. He asked her to move to Colorado, and they’d sell her barbeque in every market’s new charcuterie. If it worked out, they’d also begin production on bottling her sauces.” He paused. “It’s not a bad offer. She’d make a killing.”

  Quint frowned. “Did you know about this, Lady?”

  Yeah, right. “Duke and Marquis don’t tell me a thing about the market—they’re still mad at me for choosing to go to Europe instead of finishing business school.”

  “Why the hell is he doing this? What does he have to gain?”

  Tidus crossed his arms. “I doubt this is an apology for treating Spence like shit all summer. I doubt Duke figured out that the kid is innocent.”

  Duke had never once apologized in his life.

  I sighed. “He would never do you a favor, Tidus. That extends to Honey, even if she was the sweetest woman in the world.”

  Tidus wasn’t often serious about anything that wasn’t his own vices.

  Except her.

  “She is,” he said. “And she deserves a good opportunity. But that’s not why Duke offered her the job.”

  “What’s he gain?” Quint asked.

  I knew the answer, but I feared revealing that little insight into my family. Last thing I wanted was for Quint to think we were all as cruel as Duke.

  “My brother won’t rest until he runs your family out of town,” I said. “He’s hoping Honey takes the job so she and Tidus move to Colorado.”

  Tidus possessed a wickedly cold stare. “What great timing too. A lot of weird shit happened today.”

  “Worse than usual?” Quint asked.

  “Talked to Cassi. Her reception venue called—that nice ballroom in Ironfield? They cancelled on her, refunded her deposit. Said another offer came in and promised double what she’d paid.” He frowned. “Wonder who would have enough money to piss around and ruin a poor girl’s wedding?”

  The answer was obvious, but I shook my head.

  “I didn’t know,” I said. “I don’t get involved with my brothers’ business.”

  Tidus swore. “Christ, you’re a Barlow. You can act as innocent as you want, but your family exists to punish ours. You fucked with Spence. Now you’re pissing with Honey. And now you’re ruining my little sister’s wedding day.”

  “I had nothing to do with i
t.”

  I didn’t bother trying to convince Tidus, but Quint had lost his smile. His fists wrapped around the iron bars squeezing until his knuckles turned white.

  Quint turned from me. “That’s not the only strange stuff that’s happened this summer.”

  “I’m not surprised.”

  “Someone’s taken a real interest in Alicia.”

  Tidus snorted. “Is it because she’s dressed up like a fucking petunia?”

  “No. They keep sending me nudes.”

  “What?” Tidus asked.

  “Wait…” I shook my head. “What?”

  Quint made a face. “Someone keeps mailing the pictures, actual photographs, of Alicia. Out in the field. A few by the road. Never on the property, but I’ve got five different letters with pictures of the damn alpaca attached.” He hesitated. “And now I’m starting to get pictures of geese.”

  Tidus grunted. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

  “I don’t know. It’s like some animal zodiac killer is targeting me.”

  Enough was enough.

  “Don’t blame any barnyard shenanigans on the Barlows,” I said. “The only critters meaner than Alicia are the geese—especially since Gretchen Murphy went on maternity leave. We know better than to screw with any of those little bastards.”

  Tidus didn’t believe me. He patted the cell door.

  “Let’s get your ass out of here before you drop the soap,” Tidus said. “The last thing you want is a Barlow fucking you over.”

  Quint agreed, shouting for the sheriff. Within minutes, Samson shuffled to the cells, his disappointment palpable. He tutted his tongue and shook his head, and I considered it a matinee showing for what would happen when I had to face Grandma.

  “Well.” Samson eyed Tidus, no doubt wondering if he had cause to toss him in the cell with his brother. He seemed pleased when he couldn’t find a reason. “I expected to put a Payne behind bars, but not you, Miss Barlow.”

  Quint waved him away. “Let her go, Sheriff. She’s got nothing to do with this.”

  “That so?”

  “It was all my idea,” he said. “I changed the names for the Butter Monger and Mistress. Thought it’d be funny if a Barlow became my queen. Lady doesn’t know what the hell is going on. She’s innocent. It was all my prank.”

  Samson considered it for a long moment before nodding. “That makes sense. Couldn’t imagine a good girl like her gallivanting around with a guy like you.”